


Concerning Dwarven Law

by ladysisyphus



Series: Over Hill and Under Hill [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits are, as a rule, slow: not lazy, not foot-draggingly petulant, and certainly not dim-witted, but nonetheless slow, considering, thoughtful about even the least of matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concerning Dwarven Law

Hobbits are, as a rule, slow: not lazy, not foot-draggingly petulant, and certainly not dim-witted, but nonetheless slow, considering, thoughtful about even the least of matters. Those of the Shire most revered for their wisdom were often also the ones who took the longest to make a decision, so wedded as they were to the task of thinking things through. _The trees grow slowly, but they get the job done_ , Old Took had chided Bilbo and his friends once, catching them as they sped in an adolescent gaggle down the lane. If a matter was important enough to deal with, it was important enough to subject to deep consideration (and that included meals, though digestion was less forethought and more afterthought).

Thus, it was some time from when the Eagles whisked them from the Misty Mountains that Bilbo at last found his way toward Balin. It wasn't a long journey -- from one side of a firepit to the other, in fact -- but it was one preceded by a great deal of thought. Timing was also crucial; more than a week passed between when Bilbo worked up his resolve and when he found the company's wisest member (to Bilbo's estimation, at least) sufficiently alone.

It wasn't quite dusk yet, so the others had taken it upon themselves to see to all manner of tasks in the remaining light, from sharpening dulled blades to mending garments to ... whatever else dwarves did when left to their own devices, Bilbo was unsure (and quite sure he didn't care to know). Balin was set about the business of making the night's fire, the ends of his noble beard tucked into a pocket in his outer coat so as to preserve them from coals. "Can I offer to help?" Bilbo asked as he padded over.

Balin laughed. "Offer away, though I'm nearly done here. If you'd care to keep me company, though, please do."

Bilbo nodded and tugged over the end of a log -- and was surprised at how easily it budged! Perhaps he _had_ grown a little from his adventurings! ...No, a peek revealed that termites had bored out much of its center, rendering it all but hollow. Perhaps not. "It just occurred to me," he said as he sat astride it, "that I really know very little about dwarves."

Again, Balin laughed, though the sound was kind. "More than most hobbits do by now, though, I'd wager."

"Ah -- true," Bilbo was compelled to admit. "True, true that -- well, most hobbits have never even _met_ a dwarf, so I'd say I'm up a notch in that department, bare minimum. But, ah, well--" Bilbo chewed the inside of his lips as he pondered phrasing. "What are your families like?"

"Families?" Balin glanced around; a few of their company could still be seen at the edges of the clearing. "You've met plenty here."

"Well, yes -- brothers and cousins and nephews and the like. But--" Bilbo cleared his throat. "It's just, my great-uncle once said he'd met traveler who swore he'd seen dwarf-babies come out from rocks--"

The howl of laughter Balin let out at that was enough to catch the attention of those in earshot, and for a moment Bilbo was afraid someone might come to investigate the source of merriment, perhaps with the hope of joining in. But luck was with him, and they all remained at their business. "No," Balin said at last, when he'd caught his breath. "No, they come out in the usual manner. Though I've met a few women stern enough that one might be forgiven for mistaking them for a column of granite."

"Yes, well, I can't say I really _believed_ him," said Bilbo, who up until that moment hadn't honestly been quite sure. "And there _are_ women, I know, Gloin's shown me his cameo." He was even further from admitting aloud how long he'd been skeptical on that front as well, considering the rock-baby tales. "And wives. Have you ... have you all got one?"

"What, wives?" Balin frowned at Bilbo, who shook his head. "No, lad, we haven't. Some by choice, some by a lack of opportunity. Our babies come out in the usual manner, perhaps, but far more often than not, they come out sons."

There was a fascinating trail of inquiry to be had there, but Bilbo knew if he let himself take it, he'd wind up missing the opportunity before him, and waiting this long already had made him anxious almost beyond bearing. "And, ah, Thorin?" he asked, using every ounce of his self-control to keep the question light, casual, as though he'd just thought at that moment (and none before) to wonder. "Seems a kingly sort of thing to have!"

Nothing and everything about Balin's countenance shifted at once, such that he didn't move a single muscle in his face, yet that in itself was a telling expression. "No," he said after a too-long beat, his eyes fixed on the growing conflagration before him. "There was a betrothal in Erebor, arranged from nearly the time of his birth, but...." The end of the sentence disappeared into the growing night just as the logs beneath growing blaze did: both caught in fire.

As though summoned by his name, Thorin appeared at the far end of the clearing. Even at this distance, in this failing light, Bilbo could see that Thorin's dark hair was plastered to his head and shoulders, the braids in it having been worked loose; he and some of the others must have found a spring of fresh water, or some other contrivance for bathing in. Nori and Dwalin came close behind him, similarly soaked, though also still stripped to the waist, while Thorin was covered neck to wrists. Even among friends, Thorin remained exposed no longer than he had to.

When Bilbo looked back, he saw that Balin had been watching him watch Thorin. "Oh, well, that's--" Bilbo cleared his throat. "That's terrible. Very tragic. I can see how he might still be ... well. Lost love and all."

"Lost, yes. Not love." The lines of Balin's face were worn in a particular pattern, and as he looked at Bilbo, they deepend, giving Bilbo the impression that this long-suffering dwarf's suffering had just grown even longer. "He's remained a bit ... single-minded."

"Oh." Having no idea how to interpret this information, Bilbo instead forced a cheerful laugh. "So that's not -- it's just -- I mean that I wasn't expecting you to tell me it's _illegal_ to kiss the king or something like that." A stab of doubt twisted in his guts, and he glanced back toward Balin. "It's ... it's not, is it?"

If sighs had had their own social system, complete with a monarchy, the one that slipped Balin's lips in that moment would surely have been appointed their king. "No," he said at last, and Bilbo got the feeling that it wasn't as an answer to his question. Balin's aged hand grasped a log that looked to weigh about as much as Bilbo himself and hefted it onto the fire with little effort, shoring up warmth against the coming night. Toward the heart of the blaze, Balin's gaze fixed and did not lift again.

After a long, quiet moment, Bilbo put his hands into his pockets, casual as you please. "Suppose I could ask Bofur," he said, feigning a sort of errant thoughtfulness, one that wasn't hanging on a response.

"Ha!" Balin poked the coolest embers with the metal-capped toe of his shoe. "Go right ahead. He'll give you answers an hour long each and you won't understand any of them anyway."

The sad part of that was, not only was it true, it had been something that had figured heavily into Bilbo's consideration and planning, one of the party-winnowing factors that had in the end brought him to Balin's side. He hadn't quite so much planned on having Balin see right through him, and though he was trying to convince himself that was for the best, it wasn't working. "Do you -- that is, has there been any--"

"Laddie," Balin said, shutting down Bilbo's blind-shooting investigation with a soft word. He turned and put a hand atop Bilbo's knee, a grandfatherly gesture that was as much comfort as it was warning. "I've grown quite fond of you. We all have. We _all_ have," he repeated, putting a great weight on the second word. "But there are things about which I cannot advise you."

Try though he did to keep his chin up, Bilbo felt his shoulders slump. "Well. Just idle curiosity. About dwarves. In general."

"In general," Balin echoed, sounding in no way convinced. But to his great credit, he did not name Bilbo the liar he obviously was, and when the others began to congregate about them, drawn in by the light and the heat, he made no mention, direct or oblique, of their conversation. There was talk aplenty to be had among the others, after all, and no shortage of tales or laughter to fill the spaces between them. Bofur even pulled out his tin flute and had them all singing and clapping along to a drinking song (dwarves hardly seemed to have any other kind) with so many verses that Bilbo suspected many were being composed on the spot.

As he sipped at his soup, though, his eyes darted across the fire to Thorin, who joined right in with the rest of them, though at somewhat subdued intensity. It seemed hardly an attempt to retain dignity, not while singing along with lines about where the iron-merchant's husband had lost a roll of her coins. Rather, Bilbo thought of it more as a part of the way he kept himself in general, drawn covered just as soon as necessity allowed even as others wandered about their various camps wearing nothing more than a jaunty whistle. Vulnerability of any sort was not an option.

Balin had been right, of course, and when Bilbo caught his eye some time later, Balin gave him a kindly smile. There, no hard feelings. And perhaps it wasn't against the law to kiss the king, but it was against all good sense or reason, and Bilbo had best be putting that thought out of his mind. It should never even have appeared there in the first place, but he had to let it know it was unwelcome. Such was the natural result of a lifelong infatuation with adventure and the exotic: thoughts completely unreasonable and perfectly understandable at once.

None of which explained why he lay awake in his bedroll long after the fire had died down, watching Thorin himself take the first watch, tracking every movement as his hands -- so large and strong, yet capable of such delicate work -- re-wove two careful braids into his long, dark hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at http://ladysisyphus.livejournal.com/879254.html

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One's Own Desire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224468) by [Plooby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plooby/pseuds/Plooby)




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